


The bodyguard

by NYWCgirl



Series: Tsalani bwino = Stay well [3]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 16:34:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4883917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NYWCgirl/pseuds/NYWCgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter protects Neal during a robbery, Neal is intrigued how Peter became a bodyguard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The bodyguard

**Author's Note:**

> This story fills my ´loss of job´ square on my h/c bingo card

“Neal! You know the procedure! You can´t just go out in the town, without me. It is just too dangerous!”

Peter was angry. There was no other way to described how he felt. This was the second time Neal had left the local hospital and gone out to meet a local contact. How did Neal expect him to do his job when he just walked out without telling him.

Neal looked a bit chastised but no more than that. It made him furious.

“It is OK, Peter. It is not that I haven´t been in town before I had a bodyguard.”

Peter slowly started explaining what had changed over the last year. That there were more rebels than before, they were better organized, they had better weapons, better information about their victims. That the opinion of the people towards Americans had changed, well he could go on, but he just sighed.

“Just promise me that you tell me when you go out.”

“I promise, Peter, now, may I finish my work?”

“Yes, you may.” Peter said overly polite.

He would need to pay more attention, because he knew Neal wouldn´t take his advice.

 

* * *

 

Three days later, Peter was called by one of the driver´s. He was informed that Mister Caffery had taken one of the cars into town to visit a local herbal shop.

“Damn it Neal.” Peter grabbed his gun, shoved it in the ankle holster and told the driver to accompany him.

Neal hadn´t made much progress in the heavy traffic, so they could catch up. Peter saw Neal´s jeep a couple of cars in front of them.

When they reached a red light, a man walked up to the driver´s side of Neal´s jeep. Peter was already out of his own car and could see the man was shouting to the driver and started to hit the windshield. Suddenly he pulled out a gun and aimed at the driver´s window and pulled the trigger. Peter could hear the driver cry out, he must have been hit. The moment Peter had seen the gun, he pulled out his own gun and ran towards Neal´s side of the car, yanked open the door and pulled a shocked Neal out of the car, all the while keeping his gun aimed at the shooter.

He shouted to Neal to stay down and aimed at the gunman, who hadn´t expected someone pulling a gun on him. He studied Peter for a second, thought better of it and then ran away through traffic.

Peter crouched next to Neal, who was still curled up next to the car.

“Are you OK? Were you hit?”

“No, no, how is Afua? He was hit in the hand. I´m fine.”

Neal got up and stood on shaking legs next to the car. Peter´s driver came up to Neal and told Peter he would escort Neal back to the compound. Peter nodded and told Neal he would be right behind them with the other car.

“No, wait, give me the first aid kit, I will drive with you Peter, so I can take care of Afua´s hand.”

“Yeah, that is even better.”

Peter helped Afua in the car and handed Neal the big first aid kit from the trunk, and quickly made his way around the jeep.

 

* * *

 

When they arrived at the compound, Neal escorted Afua inside to where doctors could take care of his hand, he wasn´t a surgeon, so he let the other doctors take care of it.

When he was sure Afua was in good hands, he walked back to his room, took a shower and changed clothes. He then walked back to the main building where the restaurant and the common rooms were located.

Peter was sitting on one of the tables, writing on his laptop. Neal could see he also changed clothes.

Neal took two beers and walked up to the table.

“Mind if I sit down?”

“No, of course not. Have a seat. I was just writing an email to El.”

Neal smiled and pushed one of the bottles towards Peter, who stopped typing and opened the bottle with his cell phone. So that explained all the scratch marks on Peter´s cell.

“I´m sorry. I should have listened to you.” Neal said after a while.

“I hate to say, I told you so.” Peter stated dryly.

“Yeah, you warned me. I always thought that I had a bigger chance of getting mugged in New York, than here.”

“Well, that is probably true, statistically, but why take the chance when you have a bodyguard?”

“You are absolutely right. Again, my sincere apologies.”

Peter laughed. “It´s OK, no harm was done, well not to you anyway. I´m sorry, that I didn´t react sooner, so I could have avoided Afua being shot.”

“He held his hand against the window to show the other guy he was done with the argument and the other guy just shot through the window and his hand.” Neal said staring behind Peter.

“You OK?” Peter asked, knowing that for civilians this sort of violence was disturbing.

“Guess so, why am I so shook up and you are sitting here having a beer, typing on your laptop to our girlfriend?” Neal studied Peter´s face.

“Yeah, well, I have been in tougher situations than this.”

Neal could see it must have been much tougher.

“Care to tell me about it?”

“Not really.” Peter deadpanned.

“If you don´t want to talk about it, I respect that, but I would really like to know how you got to be the way you are.”

“If you get me another beer.” Peter gave Neal a small smile.

“That, I can do.”

 

* * *

 

“I was told you have a background in law enforcement.” Neal said when he arrived back at the table, this time with two beers and a big plate with fried chicken and French fries.

“Yeah, that is correct, I was an FBI-agent.”

“They told me you retired.” Neal started picking at the French fries.

“Do I look like I am old enough to be retired? Seriously?” Peter snorted.

“Well, it sounded plausible, so…”

“I used to work on the Violent Crimes unit in New York.”

“That explains the gun drawing skills.”

“Well, you would be surprised how little gun drawing there is involved. One day my superiors asked me to go undercover with my CI.”

“What´s a CI?”

“A Criminal informant, they are criminals that help out agents. They can just be informants, but my CI worked day to day with me explaining how certain things were done. We had been undercover before, but nothing like this assignment.”

“Interesting job.” Neal sounded sincere.

“We went deep undercover, so we had almost no contact with the bureau. It went on for months. These jobs tend to get to you; well it got to my CI, because he eventually couldn´t take the pressure anymore and snitched on me.”

Neal could see that something terrible must have happened, because Peter had gotten a distance look and had paled a shade, he was not here, he was back at that place. He laid his hand on Peter´s arm and before Neal could react, Peter had twisted it and Neal cried out.

“I´m sorry!” Peter said apologetic, letting go of Neal´s arm. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, I´m fine, you got yourself some reflexes there.” Neal was staring at Peter to see if he could sit down again.

Peter finished his beer and wanted to leave.

“Please continue, I can see that something terrible must have happened. Again, if you don´t want to talk about it, that is OK, I don´t want to pry, but I consider you my friend, and I am here to listen.” Neal said in a softer tone.

Peter scanned the room, but they were the only patrons, he looked back at Neal and nodded.

“OK, but let me get us another beer.”

“No, I´m OK, just some coke for me.” Neal interjected.

Peter came back and sat back down.

“Long story short. The guy snitched on me, my cover was blown and I was taken hostage.”

“I had no idea. And they made you retire for being taken hostage? That sounds a bit harsh.”

“Well, I was held for ten days and I developed some PTSD over that period of time.”

Peter guzzled the third bottle down. He looked back at Neal. Neal didn´t seem like he wanted to know the details, he was genuine interested in Peter´s well being. He didn´t seem to be the type who kicked on knowing the gory details. So he decided that if he wanted Neal to trust him, he needed to trust Neal.

“I have never told any civilian this, but I trust you and I value our friendship, so maybe this will make you understand where I am coming from.”

 

_When Turner ratted me out, I was outgunned. They were at least five guys with guns in the room, so I decided it was wiser to surrender. My gut told him this could only end one way, and it wasn´t going to end well for me._

_Before I could come up with a plan or say anything, someone walked up to me from behind and hit me over the head. There was a sharp pain and then nothing._

_When I woke, I was hanging from some rafters in a damp warehouse. I couldn´t feel my hands anymore, so I concluded I had been hanging there for a while. My head hurt, and I was dizzy, so probably a concussion. Except for my hands and head, I felt OK, they hadn´t done anything to me while I was unconscious._

_I didn´t know how long I hung there, but eventually I heard people entering the warehouse._

_It was Costello with two of his men. They had baseball bats with them and started hitting, not a word had been said, not a question asked. It only took a couple of blows for the pain to become so overwhelming that I blacked out. When I woke up again, I was alone, but not for long. When they entered the second time, I could see they had Turner with them. He was placed in a chair facing me. By the looks of it, he had been beaten too. He was tied to the chair, all the while begging for his life._

_I could see Costello taking a gun from one of his henchmen, taking all the bullets out and replacing one of them. He then aimed the gun on turner and looked me in the eyes._

_“What is your name?”_

_I kept silent. Costello cocked the gun and told me to look at Turner. I closed my eyes, but Costello threatened to make sure I would keep my eyes open, and I was familiar with his viciousness, so I watched Turner._

_“Last chance, tell me your name.”_

_When I didn´t say anything, Costello pulled the trigger, but an empty chamber was hit. Costello laughed and cocked the gun again._

_“Remember agent, you are responsible for your snitch, even if he turned on you. He is your charge. Your name?”_

_I started sweating, my whole body hurt, but I couldn´t give them my name. It was against protocol._

_Again, the hammer hit nothing._

_Turner was not so lucky on the third try._

_I started gagging and finally threw up when I watched Turner´s brain being blown out._

_“Too bad.” Costello replaced the bullet and cocked the gun, walking up to me. He placed the gun on my forehead and asked for my name again. When I didn´t say anything, he pulled the trigger._

“Jezus, you were tortured?” Neal whispered. He hadn´t expected that Peter survived such an ordeal.

 

_When Costello finally got fed up, he told his men to cut me down. I dropped like a sack of flower to the ground. Turner´s body was pulled from the chair and I was placed in it. I could see one of the men walk up to me with a syringe. I didn´t want to find out what was in it and started struggling but I was socked across the jaw and when I was stunned for a moment, they injected me with the stuff._

_I was taken into a room and interrogated. They would play the Russian roulette game over and over. Every time the gun clicked, I would flinch. My heart rate was so high, I wondered why I didn´t have a heart attack. When they got fed up with their game, they would tie my hand to the table and they would tell me to spread my fingers so one of the men could play with a knife, hitting the space in between them or trying to do so._

Neal watched in horror to Peter´s left hand. He had seen the scars on his fingers, but never realized how they got there.

_They kept me naked, blindfolded and restrained. Sometimes they would bring dogs out and I could feel their breath and saliva on my face and body. My stress levels were kept high, to wear me out. A person can only have so much stress, before he snaps. There were moments I thought my heart would just stop, but it didn´t._

_After a brutal water boarding session, I finally gave them my name. I couldn´t think of a reason why I wouldn´t tell them; I wasn´t going to make it out of there alive anyway. I really thought I was going to die and maybe this way, I wouldn´t die anonymously. Maybe Costello would inform the FBI that he had killed me._

_“I must admit, you have balls, Burke. You’re a tough son of a bitch. I can admire that, but I can´t let you get away with infiltrating my organization. Rest assured, I will let them know where they can find your body.”_

_I gave him a tired smile. I was done, I was OK dying, I was worn down to a thread, both physical as emotional. Costello made me kneel in front of him, and they didn´t even have to hold me down. I was shot up with a high dose of whatever drug they had available. It didn´t take long before I felt my body starting to trash. I crumbled to the ground when the thrashing started in earnest. I could feel my eyes roll back and then everything was over._

 

“I woke up four days later in the ICU of a mayor hospital. The anxiety inducing drugs they had been given me all that time, screwed up with my sense of safety. My superiors at the FBI thanked me for my duties and told me they would provide shrinks, and that was it. It took me weeks to recuperate physically and months to get my anxiety under control. By then, the FBI didn´t think I was FBI material anymore. In the end, they suggested retirement. I resented it at first, but finally realized that Costello did change me as a human being and that I couldn´t function anymore in the ´normal´ world. So I started doing contractor work in Iraq and Afghanistan. I didn´t like the work, but it paid the bills and I was good at it, but with every assignment I was losing a part of me.

Eventually I decided I wanted to do more low key stuff that I could control myself. I didn´t want to have to report to anyone anymore, so being a bodyguard was a logic career choice.”

Neal was completely stunned into silence. He just stared at Peter.

Peter looked back at Neal and finally said. “You are the first person whom I told this, outside the bureau. So now you know what makes Peter tick… I hope I didn´t scare you too much.”

“No, but now I understand some of your quirks.” Neal said softly.

Peter stood up and got himself another beer. When he came back, he smiled.

“I guess we are not going out tonight, so I´ll have another one.

Both men sat in silence. After a while Neal cleared his throat.

“Thank you for tell me this, for trusting me, I won´t betray that trust. I promise.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
